Yesterday I went to see a mediocre yet well-intentioned film called "La Finestra di fronte" with occasional lurker, Sexy Librarian. It appeared at first as if it were going to be about an elderly Jewish gay concentration camp survivor with Alzheimer's who returns to Rome sixty years after the Nazis swept through that city and sent the entire Jewish Ghetto to the camps. He returns, lost and confused, to face the demons of his past, including that horrible night (obviously) and searching for the boyfriend he'd abandoned that night in an effort save fellow the very Ghetto residents who had scorned him his entire adult life because of his homosexuality. Now that would have been an interesting movie! Instead, it turned out to be about a woman who tries to save her marriage to one of my future husbands by having an affair with another of my future husbands and then by becoming a pastry chef. Incongruous? That's what I thought as they tried to draw the various themes together towards the end.

As you may have noticed, I got myself a whole bunch of future husbands in this movie. There was Massimo Poggio and Billo Thiernothian who appear so shy in my presence that they have posted no pictures of themselves on the net. Then there was Ivan Bacchi who spent far too little time onscreen and far too much time wearing clothing. And then there was butch mechanic with a soft and squishy heart, Filippo Nigro; I'd save my marriage to him by becoming a pastry chef too, preparing for him the most scrumptious éclairs ever. Finally, there was Raoul Bova whom I'd admired since I first began stalking him after seeing him on a commercial for "Under the Tuscan Sun". After I'd seen the movie just for him (and believe me, he was definitely the only reason to see that drivelly piece of fluff), I still wasn't sure if he liked me "like that". Now, however, I know that he does like me in that way and I greatly look forward to our blissful life together.

Now speaking of "Under the Tuscan Sun", the most entertaining part of the entire movie, aside from Raoul of course, was listening to the people in front of me buy their tickets. They strode up to the wicket, slapped down the forty trillion zillion dollars and seventeen cents it costs to see a movie these days, and proudly asked for two tickets to – I am not making this up – "Under the Tucson Sun". Both the nice woman selling tickets and I managed to maintain our composure until I asked for a ticket to "Under the Albuquerque Sun" (yes, I know they're in different states). She told me I'd made her day. Hmmm . . . maybe you had to be there, but it was really, really funny!

But back to the real Italian movie I'd been talking about. Sexy Librarian, who'd liked the movie slightly less than I did, still found it pertinent to scold me for all my husband-hunting throughout, unjustly accusing me of superficiality. But as the movie was so much less than it could have been – the two separate storylines never gelled and, in fact, detracted from one another – I was forced to look elsewhere for the movie's strong point: a whole buncha really hot men to towering twenty feet above me as I sat in the darkened theatre. Always look on the bright side.

But the movie did get me thinking a little. In North America for the past year or so the media has been diverting much of our attention from the fact that we maybe blown up at any second or arrested or invaded for not agreeing with a certain government on how to deal with the fact that we may be blown up at any second to the issue of same-sex marriage (for an interesting discussion on the recent failure of Bush's failed Constitutional ban of same-sex marriage chez my neighbour to the south on Hot Abercrombie Chick. Then check out my brilliant, thoroughly under-appreciated comment on the post – it was the wrong audience for me). Much of the discussion has revolved around the view that the sole purpose of marriage is procreation. This seems simple-minded to me, but then again I have never procreated nor, I suppose, will I ever. This certainly does explain, however, loveless arranged marriages (whose actual purpose was to create alliances between clans and amass wealth) and it does not address right of married couples who cannot or chose not to reproduce their little devil DNA mergers, running to and fro terrorizing cats and eating bugs. It seems to me that marriage is really about stable and loving companionship and sharing throughout the course of one's life.

One scene in the movie demonstrating this beautifully was towards the beginning when the elderly gentleman has a little breakdown in front of a store closed for the night, crying to be let in, that we later discover was owned by the boyfriend he hadn't seen since 1943. No one wants to be that man, having lived a full life yet ultimately alone. The fact that I am almost 34 and just found last week a white pubic hair (I enjoy the gradual silvering of my temples but it is completely unnecessary for the rest of my body to age as rapidly) leads me to believe that I may indeed be that man in forty years. Now before you say, "No way, Surly. You're brilliant and witty and kind and, like, totally hot! Any guy would be lucky to snag you!" let me say thanks but a) you don't know that for certain, especially since gay men are generally much less forgiving than women are of the slow disintegration of others' beauty due to age, b) I will never be ultimately alone since I have very many excellent friends and a pretty cool family to boot, and c) that's not really what I'm writing about.

What I really mean to say is that most humans want companionship and even the most antisocial of us emerge blinking from out lairs every once in a while. The basis of this loving institution is love, not "The Brood". We all want companionship and because humans are social creatures and basically insecure, we all want out companionship to be recognized by those around us. This is one reason why civil union is not enough and why just living your life with someone isn't enough either. Straight couple may choose common law, and it's their choice. They can have their wedding or they can choose not to have their wedding. In most of the world gay men and women do not have this choice in most of the world. Gay men and women merit the consideration of the rest of the world and the recognition that our relationships are based on the same emotions and the same dreams and desires as straight relationships. All . . . um, how many are there now? . . . nine of my fantasy future husbands agree and my real fantasy future husband – Taye Diggs' gay, Cabbagetown-dwelling doppelganger perhaps? – agrees as well. So all in all, I guess it was a pretty good movie.